Chapter 3

Elias

The lights in their house go off one by one. I stand across from the street for nearly an hour, waiting calmly for this moment, when everywhere finally goes dark and quiet.

When the bedroom light finally switches off, I cross the road, my steps soundless.

Noah was never good at locking windows. Some habits never change, no matter how many years you spend pretending to be someone else.

I slip my hand inside the window, reaching for the latch. I push the door open and step my foot inside their beloved home.

He must have thought I would never find where he lives but I have. After bumping into him, I had him followed.

Noah was good at detecting sounds. I wonder if he still does now that he's asleep. Well, there is only one way to find out.

The house is warm, almost too warm for my liking. Seven years of a life carefully built and yet, I can’t help thinking he stole parts of mine to build it.

That’s why I’m here. To see what’s really his and what should have been mine.

I move through the stairs, taking in details I don't need; photos lined on the walls. Birthday photos, holiday photos, the little girl's school photos.

Strangely, I don't see wedding photos.

I stop when I reach the bedroom. The door is slightly ajar. I don't touch it. I only stand there, listening to their heartbeats.

The door doesn't creak as I ease the door open just wide enough to see her. She lies on her side, her dark hair spilling on the pillow.

I take a step closer to her, careful not to let out any sound. A breeze slips in through the window, lifting her hair slightly and brushing it from her face. My breath catches as her features come fully into view.

Even in her sleep, I can tell she's Helen. I can't deny the fact that I watched Helen die in front of me and buried her as well. Still, against all odds, I have this strong feeling that I'm right and Noah is wrong.

I pick up her hairbrush and slip it into my coat.

I watch as her chest rises and falls lightly, so ignorant and vulnerable.

If she's truly Dahlia, I have no reason to let any storm reach her. But if she turns out to be Helen, I'll tear this world apart just to have her back.

She flips, lying on her other side. I reach out to her night shirt, raising it up just enough to look for the mark.

But I never get the chance. Noah lunges at me, pinning me to the floor.

“Are you crazy?” He growls, “Sneaking into my house in the middle of the night! Trying to touch my wife!!”

He's so protective. I'm only here to confirm, not molest his wife.

A mocking smile lingers at my lips. It’s somehow pleasing seeing the creases on his forehead and his jaw tightened. His eyes darken and he punches me.

My head swings to her, hoping that awful loud sound didn't wake her up. She flips again to her side, facing us now and I let out a sigh of relief.

Before he gets the chance to strike me again, I grab his neck, choking his lungs out. Very foolish of him to come at me when he knows how weak he is.

“We shouldn't wake Helen up.” I remind him calmly.

“She's ....not…Helen!” He chokes out.

“Relax, I came to verify.” I push him aside and make my way back to Helen.

A crash thunders in the room and my heart races when her lashes flutter. I disappear through the window before her eyes can open.

Breaking a headlamp just to have me out? Childish, classic Noah.

Nevertheless, it would be foolish for him to tell her I’d been there. She probably knows nothing and I know he has no intention of saying a word. A small smile tugs at my lips.

Tonight wasn't a failure after all.

His sudden protectiveness, his urgency to keep me from checking the mark, tells me enough. He's not telling the whole truth.

At the entrance of my Suite, Finn, my beta, paces back and forth. I can remember telling him not to wait up. He never listens.

“The next time I say don't wait.” I say, pushing past him. “Don't wait!”

He follows behind, “Anything yet?”

My throat is burning. A glass of water first. I grab a glass, fill it and drain it in seconds.

The fire doesn't cool. It crawls through my body, spreading like a rot. To say I hate this burn is an understatement. I take in more water but the pain bites harder.

It never gets better, does it? I thought I was finally free after the ritual. But slowly the pain has been finding its way back to me, faint for me to notice until now.

I had to sacrifice Helen, my wife, my Luna, my fated mate, to save myself and my pack at a great cost. I never truly forgave myself for making such a decision.

“Are you okay?” Finn asks like I'd actually act like this if I was okay. The moment he touches me, he jerks his hand back.

I won't allow myself to stay down for long. I've had enough. Planning on heading to my room, the fire spikes. A roar tears out of me and my knees hit the ground in pain. I claw at the ground, failing multiple times to stand.

A wave of ice melting water crashes over me, smothering the flames in seconds.

I'm on my feet at once, already moving to my bedroom. “Arrange a meeting with the red witch tomorrow.”

Finn keeps pace. “But you met her earlier today.”

“And she gave me nothing.” I spin on him, fury burning hotter inside me, “I came all the way here for answers but she doesn't even know if the curse was broken.”

He lowers his head, “She won't come. She said two days' notice. No exceptions….”

The more reason I hate that he's in love with her. Always considerate and never does things my way.

“I don’t care.” My voice drops into a low growl. “I’m wasting too much time here.”

Time isn’t something I gamble with. Every second I hesitate, I lose more control. Nothing feels worse than being away from my pack, leaving my mother and the council to handle matters I should be in charge of. I can’t rest, not with that weighing me down.

“What about the answers you went for?It's two ways. If Helen is alive, then the curse still stands.” he says carefully.

“And if she's dead, then I'm plagued with another.” I add.

Silence stretches.

Finn cuts in sharply. “Or maybe everything we knew was wrong. Mary left us with more questions than answers."

They both disappeared the moment everything collapsed. Noah and Mary the witch who helped me once with the ritual. How convenient and very suspicious.

‘I’ve got the potion,’ Noah had pestered me once. ‘There’s a fifty percent chance of saving her. It’s a gamble but better than nothing.’

Fifty percent to save Helen. Back then, it wasn't enough. Not enough to save what I’ve spent years planning.

Did you do it,Noah?